Disgrace
by BeatriceParadisio
Summary: The Courier left the Mojave to avoid the heavier demands of Caesar only to find her journey cut short by tribal wars and a whispered legend. Joshua Graham, fighting the scars of his past, is faced with a reminder of his failures and the past he was thrown from. Together, they fight the White Legs, all while a lurking shadow of the Legion stalks their every move.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I really liked Graham when playing the game, especially how both he and the Courier survived things they shouldn't. I felt that there would be some underlying emotions there. So this is a fun little tale about the Courier, Graham, and Vulpes. Hope you enjoy.

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**1**

Jane was bone tired when she finally reached the small cave the tribal boy was leading her to. It had been a long, _long_ year and all she wanted was to disappear and finally rest. That's why she had agreed to accompany the Happy Trails caravan in the first place. That and she wanted to be far from the constant surveillance of Caesar. Yet none of her hopes for the journey north seemed likely to come to pass after she found herself once more surviving something most wouldn't.

Turning to the young man that had met her shortly after the quick and violent death of her fellows, Follows-Chalk encouraged her to enter the cave on the edge of his people's camp. Something deep inside of her told her to refuse, to seek her own way out of the deceivingly peaceful valley, but the tribal's happy smile made her ignore the feeling. He seemed so hopeful and truly happy that she was there and that she was about to see a man she had only heard about in whispers.

"Alright," she muttered, taking in a deep breath while letting her hand drift to the machete at her side. It comforted her, the feel of Liberator against her calloused palms. She had earned the blade through blood and carnage. She sometimes went back to the moment when she made her decision to wipe out Forlorn Hope, wondering what life would have looked like had she not been infatuated with the Legion.

Yet she knew questioning her decisions wouldn't do anything for her now. She was a pawn of Caesar, despite originally joining him to avoiding being nothing more than a playing piece of the NCR. Zion was supposed to be an escape from all of that, from the blood and screams, the pressure to be the momentum behind a war. _And now I'm visiting the Legion's co-founder,_ she thought wryly as she followed the caves twists and turns. _What am I doing?_

The thought only magnified as she entered a large open cavern, her eyes immediately finding the unsettling bandaged body of a man completely focused on loading a table full of pistols. She watched him work for a minute, the sharp snap of the clips being locked into place creating an eerie soundtrack to the silent man's work.

"We should have given you a better welcome on your first trip to Zion," he said suddenly, not bothering to look up from the flurried movements of his hands. "From what I hear the White Legs beat us to it."

She didn't say anything, taking in his rich voice and dark eyes that seemed to burn with energy under his white bandages. There was something intoxicating about the energy that seemed to pour from his body, forcing her eyes to stay on him despite wanting to look away from the spotted cloth that betrayed the condition of his wounds.

The Burned Man, though didn't seem to notice her staring as he continued. "White Legs seem to be the only visitors we have these days, and I wouldn't have expected anyone from the Mojave to come looking for us. And for it to be a courier to visit us, no less. Not the one I was expecting, but then again he wouldn't have come with the caravan."

"Ulysses is dead," she said, knowing that the courier the Legion seemed to be most concerned with was the psychotic man that should have carried the chip. It would have been so much easier for everyone had he done the job he was assigned, but he was too far-gone at that point. He was one death among many that she did not regret.

He paused in his work, his eyes meeting her whiskey colored eyes. "I see. Are you sure?"

"He's more dead than you turned out to be."

Graham looked at her for another moment before casting his eyes down and grabbing another gun. She wished she could see his face, read his expressions. That was her true power, along with having better than average aim and a strong arm. She could read people, see what they wanted to hear, sense their persuasions, and manipulate them with a few well-chosen words. The Burned Man gave her no clues to work off of. It made her feel strangely more powerless than she would bound and weaponless.

"How do you know so much about what happened to me?" she finally asked, deciding to stay away from the other questions that begged to be asked. Questions about Caesar, the Dam, and where her loyalty might take her someday.

"The Dead Horses are capable scouts. Nothing passes in and out of Zion without my hearing of it."

"Dead Horses for Frumentarii," she said softly, watching for any signs of reaction, anything she could use in her favor to find her way out of the farce of a paradise.

"Information is important, no matter what banner you follow," he answered, his voice even and direct. "Even bad information, like the type you'll have to give to your employers. New Canaan has been destroyed so they'll have no more need of caravans. All because of the White Legs. And Caesar, of course," he said looking up.

"How?"

"The White Legs want to join the Legion, of course. From that machete you wear I can imagine you know all about what it takes to complete his rite of passage."

"Destruction of an enemy," she answered without emotion.

His eyes met hers again for a moment, looking at her with the same intensity she had only seen on one other person in her life. He too, like the Burned Man, lived and breathed Legion. "I see. Who was your rite?"

"Who wasn't?"

"Caesar definitely uses his followers for all they are worth," he said blandly. "But I suspect that the destruction of New Canaan is most assuredly because of me."

Again the cavern was filled only with the symphony of metal clicking into place. Jane knew that what Joshua said shouldn't shock her; that Caesar was a vengeful and violent man, but it was still difficult to hear. She had seen the Legion's ruler during a moment of weakness. He had been so sick when she had arrived at Fortification Hill that he was willing to trust a woman to do the work of a Frumentarii. He had even honored her afterwards for a time, but with the returning of his strength that all changed. She had too much sway with people and he feared that, just as he clearly feared Joshua.

"I'll be plain with you," she finally said, breaking the silence. "I have no interest in what Caesar wants with you or this valley. I just am looking for someplace quiet to settle down."

"Then the good news is that we can help you find your way out of here. Daniel, one of the other New Canaanites, has made many maps of the region. The bad news is that we can't help you right now. Not with everything that's going on."

"I don't think you'll want me around longer than necessary," she countered. "I don't doubt that Caesar has men looking for me."

"I have been away from the Mojave for too long. Who are you to the Legion?"

"I'm the woman that handed them Hover Dam on a silver platter."

His hands stopped midair; the look in his eyes was the first sign of any emotion beyond passion that she had seen. There was shock filling his dark eyes, shock and something else that was subtler. She couldn't quite place it without seeing the rest of his face, but his words gave him away. "How? How did _you_ manage that?"

"I have my ways," she answered, smothering a smile that threatened to pull on her lips. She could fill in the words he didn't use easily by the angry and jealous tones. How did she, a woman, do what he had failed to do? How had she managed to defeat Caesar's greatest enemy with no training, no real reputation as a warrior, and even without fully buying into the Legion lifestyle? It was the same sort of thing both the legate and Caesar's head frumentarii had demanded answered as the NCR left the dam before their forces were able to reach the general.

"Then why are you here, if you have the honor to give Caesar his first stepping stone to ruling the west?"

"I'm a woman."

Graham stared at her for a moment before turning back to his work. "Not a large enough crime to be burned alive," he muttered. "You are right, you are not someone that I would happily welcome to stay for long, but the situation remains as it is. We cannot help you until we have dealt with some of our problems here."

A sigh escaped her, despite her attempts at being as impassive as possible. It just seemed to typical that there would be a catch. There always was. "What do I need to do to get out of here?"

The former legate looked at her for a moment, his hand resting on a gun as he surveyed her. "Supplies. We need supplies."

He motioned her closer to her table as the sinking feeling that this, like everything else, was going to be complicated.

* * *

Vulpes watched from a nearby cliff through a set of binoculars taken from a destroyed NCR camp as she entered a cave. He had not liked being assigned to trail the Courier when there was so much work to be done in the Mojave and New Vegas. Even if he could understand the concerns Caesar had over the woman and her odd ability to draw entire populations to her. She was a loose end that, if swayed in a direction away form the Legion, could cause many headaches in their newest territory.

It was a shame she hadn't died during the battle, but as it was she had survived. They couldn't put a bullet through her eyes without reason, not when their hold on New Vegas was so fresh and tensions were tight in the entire region. He couldn't understand why so many people viewed this woman as some sort of savior, but they did and that in itself was a powerful thing. Therefore, he would watch and wait. See what she did, who she aligned herself with, and what her plans were since sneaking away from Fortification Hill in the dead of night.

He wasn't surprised that she left. He could see it in her eyes after the honor of holding Caesar's mark wore off and his lord began to treat her more like the woman that she was rather than some sort of special exception. What did surprise him is that she went to the region that held Caesar's greatest failure. It made for a very delicate situation, the woman who had the power to spark wars being near the man that was able to build armies.

He had no reason to believe she knew Graham was in Zion, but it didn't make him rest any easier. Joshua was dangerous and obviously as difficult to kill as the Courier was. He had no interest in testing his skill against either unless it was absolutely necessary. Instead, he would confront the woman and take care of the problem one way or another before she and Graham could become too close. He just hoped that Caesar wouldn't be too upset if she turned out to be a traitor.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So I always thought it odd that the collectors edition card of Vulpes had him looking so different from the in game version. Then again, he his a master spy so why wouldn't changing hair color be a part of his repertoire?

Thank you for your review AgressiveNegotiations. It was greatly appreciated and I hope that this chapter builds on the first.

As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review if you have a chance. It's very helpful to get any sort of feedback when writing.

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2

Vulpes watched the Courier leave, his simple armor blending into the rocky ledge he had been tracking her from. He almost smiled at the annoyed expression she wore. It wasn't common for her to show any emotions beyond the mask of mild amusement that both infuriated him and made him want to know what she was hiding. She had nearly driven him mad when she first entered Fortification Hill with how difficult it was to discover even a hint of the secrets she carried, making him question his abilities as a frumentarius. Still, he eventually learned that the Courier was not as complex as she seemed. She was able to use words and morph her expressions into whatever her audience wanted, making her a capable liar though little else.

Silently he crept along the canyon, watching the woman and the savage make their way to old NCR posts and pre-war buildings. It was obvious that they were collecting supplies, though happily it didn't look like weapons were a part of the list she seemed to be following. It meant that Graham currently didn't have his sights set on anything more than his current problems with the savages. His intelligence put his arms stash at little more than a few crates of pistols, a few grenades, and one old rifle. It at least made things a little less complicated for the present moment.

Moving along in the distance, he lifted his binoculars and watched the Courier dismiss the savage with her. Closing his eyes, he could see in his mind two paths stretching out before him. One the Courier joined Graham, creating a dangerous situation that would only end in him having to spill blood. The other, more pleasing path, was the Courier doing as he bid, carrying out her duty as a woman in the Legion.

"I think it's time for us to be reacquainted," he said with a small smile, brushing back a wavy strand of blond hair that blew across his eyes. "It's time to remind her who she belongs to."

* * *

The tasks given by Graham weren't as bad as she anticipated. Collecting supplies was easy when most of the locals viewed the area as haunted or taboo. In fact, after a few hours of wandering around the cool, clean springs of Zion, Jane began to wonder what all of her apprehension was about. The canyon truly was a paradise, supplying far more food and water than the Mojave ever gave her. Even Follows-Chalk couldn't dampen her mood with his continuous questions and insatiable curiosity, though she did congratulate herself on successfully convincing him to return home while she finished her task.

Taking a deep breath of the dust-free air, she let the cool wind move across her skin, relishing the sense of the freedom. There was no oppressing heat or the constant nausea from radiation. For the first time in nearly a year she didn't feel the burning hate of revenge or a false sense of loyalty and honor. She didn't even feel the pressure to sway generals or secure alliances. For once she felt free from the constant gaze of the West's great powers. It was then, only when she her guard was completely down did the hairs on her neck stand on end.

Turning, she saw him standing in the distance, dusty armor with a gun and machete at his hip. His hair was longer now and blonde rather than a dark buzz cut, but that little change or even the dark glasses he wore wasn't enough to make him unrecognizable. Even if it had, his over-confident smirk that she knew made his cold, blue eyes glint dangerously, would have given him away.

"So you have found me."

"I never lost you," the deadly frumentarius said moving towards her with the grace of a cobra ready to strike.

He, like Graham, gave her very little to work off of. Sure, he would smirk occasionally or give a thin-lipped frown but they were as rehearsed as his New Vegas gambling persona. She could more easily read and manipulate Legate Lanius despite the mask than Vulpes Inculta. He was one of the few people that she knew she was at the disadvantage.

"So," she started, holding her ground against an old building as he moved so close that she could feel his even breathes on her skin. "What have I done to have the _honor_ of the head of the Frumentarii acting as my babysitter?"

The jab didn't seem to bother Vulpes, though she knew deep down the man's pride most likely already asked the same question. Instead he answered in the same steady tone that he had used after torching Nipton. "Caesar has noticed your absence. He wonders what work you might be doing on his behalf."

"As an ever loyal servant to the great Caesar I was looking into potential places to expand his territories."

"Oh? And Utah is where you thought Caesar would find a piece of useful land?"

"Utah is closer to Wyoming and Idaho, along with the ancient path used to cross the far Eastern portion of the land to the West. Why wouldn't Caesar want it?"

"So you're purpose was to give the Son of Mars the Oregon Trail?"

"Why not scout it since you clearly have everything handled in New Vegas?" she answered with the bright smile that so often worked on the fools of the NCR or the small-minded settlers of places like Novac and Primm.

Vuples gave her a smirk as he leaned forward, his lips moving so close to her ear that she could almost feel their moisture against his skin. "You're lies fool others, Courier, but you know that I can see through them."

"Then why ask the questions?" she asked, her body stiffening, as he remained uncomfortably close.

"Because your lies give away your true purpose," he whispered, his hand drifting to her hip and grabbing her machete. "Even though you clearly aren't sold on becoming a traitor just yet."

She stared at him as he moved away, his arm testing Liberator before holding the sharp tip out towards her. "No, this prize has not lost its value to you yet. Nor has the Legion. Yet you're here, Courier, running around doing errands for a man that should be dead. It's almost poetic, if you think about it."

"Why because we both survived things that would kill anyone else?"

"No, because you ran from the Legion right to the comforting arms to one of its founders," he said, the intensity of his gaze reaching her despite his glasses. "Like a disobedient child running away from home only to wind up in the warm embrace of a grandfather."

"Or," she started, feeling her footing of the situation quickly slipping as he pressed the point of her own blade against the soft flesh between her clavicles. "Or I ran to the one man who would understand my…_conflicted_ emotions regarding the Legion."

Vulpes remained stony as he pushed the blade into her skin, causing a crimson bead to swell and run down her chest. "You are not so bold to lay your plans out like that, Courier. You forget I have seen you work. Smoke and daggers is your style. No, I don't think you realized what you had stumbled upon with that ragged caravan you signed up with. I think you are only realizing the possibilities now and seeing the predicament it puts not only the Legion in, but you."

"And what predicament is that?" she asked, not looking away despite the sharp sting as he dragged the blade down, leaving a red trail on her skin and white shirt.

"I think you understand it. Graham is a difficult problem for the Legion and a man that Caesar has greatly wished to see dead. You're leaving us has made him question your loyalty, which will only grow when my report reaches him of what and who you have been dealing with."

"So you're suggesting that a cross lies in my future? Or would I go the way of Graham, burned and thrown into a canyon?"

"No, that was the punishment for disappointing Caesar. A traitors punishment is much, much worse," he answered, accenting his words with sharp flicks of her machete on the skin of her chest.

She knew that he gained some sort of odd satisfaction over seeing others break, giving him complete power over them in whatever game Caesar had sent him to play. Yet she refused to give into his intimidation, fixing a large smile on her face instead of showing any sign of pain. "Now who said anything about being a traitor. I was just exploring all the different paths ahead of us. You must know, Vulpes, that I am always Caesar's most loyal and devoted servant. If I wasn't I would have scooped up the power of New Vegas for myself."

Vulpes let the machete linger on her skin for a moment longer, his mouth forming a thin line in what she had come to recognize as him weighing his options. She knew that there was a good chance Caesar had ordered her death after she left the Legion camp in the dead of night. He didn't take well to being abandoned. Yet she also knew that he often left important decisions to his Legate or head Frumentarius in accordance to their expertise, thus alleviating some of the daily pressures he felt at leading such a large autocracy. She just hoped it was the latter since she doubted Vulpes would kill her if he could use her in some way. _Like killing Joshua Graham,_ she thought darkly wishing that she were a bit bigger and stronger so that she might actually stand a chance against the legionary in hand-to-hand combat.

After a few uncertain minutes, the Legion spy finally spoke, his face flat, hiding his emotion just like Graham's bandages. "Your continued loyalty can be shown, of course, by removing one of Caesar's enemies. I believe you know what the Son of Mars requires."

"Yes," she answered darkly. "I do."

* * *

Joshua was right in having the mysterious courier followed that morning. If he hadn't, he would have never known just how close the Legion was on the woman's trail.

"This is a complication we don't need," he muttered, clenching his fist despite the still unhealed wounds pressing uncomfortably against his bandages.

"What should we do?" Daniel asked, gathering up the supplies he had come to collect from the small tribal camp. "I thought you said she was on our side and was going to be helping use with the White Legs."

"She's woken up from the Legion's spell, but that doesn't mean that a little pressure from Edward's fox wouldn't be enough to have her act against us."

"Do you think we should find a way to…"

"To what? Eliminate her?" Graham asked, looking at his more peace-loving Canaanite with annoyance. "You don't have the stomach for it and I'm not convinced we should jump to conclusions."

"But problems with the White Legs is already driving us out. If the Legion is here too –"

"The Legion is _not_ here. This is my valley and even if a bit of red armor can slip in without my notice that doesn't mean the rest of Caesar's men are waiting at our doorstep. Believe me, they have been here before and nothing has come of it."

"Then what should we do?"

Joshua looked down at his hands, the yellowish fluid from his wounds staining the clean white cloth, adding to the pain that constantly reminded him of what he had done, lost, and won. He knew that he couldn't give it up without a fight. He wouldn't give the Legion the satisfaction of seeing him dead, whether at the hand of the White Legs, a spy, or even a female courier.

"We will act like we know nothing," he answered slowly. "Return to your base and when she comes to you with supplies act like nothing is wrong."

"So we turn a blind eye and do nothing?"

"No. We wait and see. I won't be far away. Let's see what she does before we make any sort of decision."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks again to those that continue to read. As always, I hope you enjoy :)

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3

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Jane carefully peeled off her cotton top, hissing slightly as the material that had dried in her wounds ripped free. She knew that Vulpes was watching her from somewhere nearby, but she didn't care as she pulled off her boots and pants before slowly sinking into the frigid water of the nearby stream.

This wasn't the first time she found herself watching her own blood dissipate in water, creating reddish-brown streaks on the otherwise pure water. Yet for some reason this time, despite not being severe or really all that physically painful, the wounds seemed to be deeper than what they were. She felt her chest tightening as a suffocating pressure filled her body, her breathes coming in ragged waves as her whole body shivered. She knew the Legion would look for her, she knew that they would even probably find her, but for some reason the presence of Vuples Inculta felt like a pin pressing into a very delicate balloon. It was only now, after he had walked away and she had been left to wander the valley alone that she felt the sharp intrusion of the Legion in her life.

With a shaking hand, she splashed some water on her chest, her skin rippling with goosebumps as each handful added a new, freezing assault. She knew that she should be feeling angry right now like she did when Mr. House had manipulated her life from afar, or even the empowered sense of righteousness when she turned away from the never-ending selfish demands of the NCR, but she didn't. Caesar's influence instead made her feel numb, his constant surveillance and orders killing the small sense of freedom she had only just tasted.

To make it worse, they had sent the master spy to find her, forcing her to face the only man in the entire Legion she knew she was powerless against. He was stronger and faster than she was, as were many others, but on top of that he equaled her in the power of words and wore a mask that flawlessly covered up any of his weaknesses. Even with her time at Fortification Hill and New Vegas after the battle, she still didn't have any better understanding of the man, what he liked beyond Caesar, and if he had any guilty pleasures she could manipulate. The man was all business. Coldhearted, bloody, lying, cheating business.

_Well at least you know his natural hair color isn't black,_ she thought blandly as her body began to acclimate to the water and the shock wore off. A small laugh escaped her at the thought of his shaggy, blonde locks that left no trace of the short black hair that he had sported during their time together in the Mojave. What need the Frumentarius had to dye his hair when he always was wearing his coyote hood was beyond her, but it seemed he hadn't thought to bring anything to touch it up with on the long journey to Zion. Hell, she even had to cut her hair during the trip with a knife to keep it from getting much longer than her shoulders during the trip.

"His hair color doesn't solve your problem," she muttered to her reflection in the water, her own chestnut hair looking like a tangled mess over her tanned face. It was obvious that Vulpes could track her even when she had a head start, and he could to do it without being seen for months. The chance of slipping out of Zion unnoticed and escaping into the wastes did not seem like a good gamble at the moment.

"So that leaves killing Graham."

Her mind flashed to the Burned Man's fiery eyes, his hands expertly handling gun after gun as he talked with her. That, too, didn't seem like a good idea if she expected to still have her health fully intact when she left the valley.

"So this is what a rock and hard place feels like," she laughed dryly as she pulled herself out of the water and did her best to wash the blood from her clothes. She didn't know what she was going to do, but it wouldn't help her situation if she bumped into Graham with her white shirt streaked red. Too many questions would be asked from yet another man impossible to read beyond his hate towards the Legion.

_You're delivering supplies, so do that and let fate work itself out,_ she told herself, using the old mantra that had both blessed and cursed her twenty-some years in the desert. For better or worse, though, she knew that eventually only one option would present itself. Until then, she would let the no-win situations play themselves out a bit more, buying her time to come up with some sort of plan.

* * *

The cliffs of the Narrows were dry and fairly warm, making Joshua at least feel happy that he wouldn't risk infections while he watched for the woman's next move. He had found her easily enough, clumsily navigating the winding streams of Zion without the guidance of Follows-Chalk or any other Dead Horse for that matter. Still, she had managed to find the home of the Sorrows on her own, showing she had some skill in survival that he would have to take into account if she proved to be an enemy.

For the moment, though, she seemed content with delivering the goods he had asked her to collect. She even looked impressed with the Narrows, her pace slowing as she looked at the towering walls of redrock and waterfalls. He preferred this to the darting glances towards the cliffs she had used out in the valley during her travels, as if expecting to see someone she didn't want to see.

Joshua could only guess at who in the Legion had visited the Courier while she was collecting supplies. The Dead Horse scout only reported a light-haired man with plain armor and a machete, leaving any number of men to fill the description. Yet he had his top choices, though one seemed more likely of Caesar if what the Courier said about the dam was true.

"And if we're watching for Vulpes, then death won't be far to follow," he muttered as he kept to paths only the tribals knew how to reach. He had know the Frumentarius for years, of course, seeing him raised to be head of the pack of spies shortly before his final battle as the Legion's first Legate. He doubted that the past five years had done much to dampen the man's passion for the Legion or zeal in following Caesar's orders, making him a dangerously driven enemy to have so close.

_Though he would probably be visiting me soon anyways,_ he thought darkly as the Courier finally slipped into the Sorrows' camp, meeting their medicine woman and being led away. _Now that the dam isn't a distraction for Caesar I'm sure he would have sent his best after me eventually._

The truth in his thoughts did little to ease the growing apprehension and anger that was in him. He knew he wasn't equipped to deal with a Legion attack, whether from the shadows of the master spy or by a small company of initiates with something to prove. It would be suicide to face them with the way things were currently. Yet he wanted nothing more than to spill their blood and see them thrash while the life left their bodies. They deserved it for the crimes they committed, the false gods they worshipped, and for believing in a man that had become the devil-incarnate. He wanted to act as the righteous hand of God, casting out judgment as the prophets and judges before him had. Yet he knew he couldn't do this on his own. He couldn't even take care of the White Legs on his own.

Looking back down into the Narrows, he watched as the Courier confidently spoke with Daniel, her body language quickly shifting from that of a mercenary to an empathetic healer. Even from the height he was at, he could see his fellow Missionary soften like butter in a flame to whatever the woman was saying to him. In a matter of seconds, the young Mormon was leaning in as the Courier spoke, his body moving closer with each light touch of her hand to his arm and his head shaking vigorously to whatever she was asking.

Joshua couldn't help but smile at the display, suddenly understanding how a woman, of all possible people, could win the favor of Caesar and bring him the prize of the century. He knew his old friend was a sucker when it came to a slim body and alluring smile, as were many other sinful men that lived in the desert. They would be easy targets for someone that could get a reaction from the staunchest Mormon he had ever met. The man didn't even react to the half-naked tribals and here he was, eating whatever words the Courier fed him, his body giving away his obvious desire for the woman even if his mind didn't realize it.

_And he'll do whatever she says, _he thought wryly as he continued to watch the display. _He probably won't even realize that what he's doing isn't his own idea_…

The world seemed to stop as the words that had been flying in his head suddenly took on a greater meaning. Daniel, like other men taken in by beauty and smooth words, would act as a pawn to the woman much like the legionaries were to Caesar and his hypnotic influence. If this courier could win the Legion's favor, conquer dams, and be left largely unmarked by the whole process, he couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of power she could hold over people. Suddenly everything became clear.

"Elijah had Elisha when he judged Israel," he whispered, his eyes glancing towards the heavens before returning to the woman. "And I will have the Courier as I do God's work in cleansing the Mojave."


End file.
